Bioshock Infinite: What Could Have Been
by GolferboyWill
Summary: A Biochock Infinite "Romedy" that takes place after they defeat Comstock, discover the alternate universes, Booker finds a way to repay Elizabeth for what he did to her... He realizes later that he's falling in love with her...
1. Chapter 1

**Bioshock Infinite: What Could Have Been**

**Chapter 1**

**Hey everybody, I'm new to FanFiction and thought it'd be fun to try my hand at writing parodies of all these fiction works. I thought my first story would be a parody of Bioshock: Infinite, just cause it takes number 1 on my list of best games I've ever played, plus the story compelled me and I really didn't want the story to end. Kind of like a good book that you don't ever want to put down, only this was better. I would appreciate comments and I'd also appreciate it if you would call out my grammatical errors, and please correct my facts if they're wrong. Hope you like it and more chapters will come I promise!**

The storm raged on as the small waves rocked against the tiny rowboat that was being poorly steered by Robert Lutece with his sister, Rosalind Lutece, nagging and yakking at him. Booker sat across from Elizabeth, dumbfounded at all the things she had shown him: his life in the past, his lives in alternate universes, all the mistakes that other Booker Dewitts and Zachary Comstocks have made, and how it all affected Elizabeth. He thought about all of it, the constants and the variables, the things that could have been, and how all of it tied to what was happening right now.

"Booker, wake up…" He heard Elizabeth's smooth voice urge him to open his eyes.

"Booker, wake up… This is where it started…" He snapped out of his little phase and looked around. It was the exact same stormy night that he first started this little endeavor. _Bring us the girl… Wipe away the debt… _The words rang in his head like a maniacal and agitating demon just trying to anger him. _Wipe away the debt… Wipe away the debt… Bring us the girl… Wipe away the debt… _He shook that voice out of his head, and came to the horrifying realization:

"I sold you… I sold you…" His eyes were wide with fear. Elizabeth Comstock was Anna Dewitt; Booker's lost daughter. That explained the _AD _carved into his hand. He looked at her sitting across from him, and noticed the sadness in her expression and her head low.

The Luteces, hearing all of this, stopped bickering at each other and decided to join the conversation.

Rosalind Lutece turned to Booker and in her unmistakable British accent tried to lighten the mood a little bit. "To your credit, you did try to weasel out of the deal." It didn't help.

Booker felt angry. He felt resentment towards Comstock. "This is all Comstock's fault…" Then he got an idea. "What if I went back… and killed him before he did any of this?"

Elizabeth's sadness immediately turned into shocking surprise, and Robert Lutece stopped rowing, while Rosalind whirled around so fast, you could hear the wind rush by her face. It got so quiet for a moment that all you could hear was the thunder, the waves, and the rain splashing against the Luteces' rain suits.

The Luteces tried to talk him out of it, for they knew what fate lied ahead of him with this choice. "Things get set in motion," urged Rosalind.

"How would one know how far back to go," questioned Robert, desperately trying to put persuasion in his voice.

Elizabeth was too shocked to say anything.

"That's the only way to do it," Booker said, with determination in his voice. "Go back to when he was born… and I'll smother the son of a bitch in his crib."

Elizabeth and the Luteces then realized that there was nothing they could do anymore. He was determined to do this, and he wasn't going to let anyone stand in his way. Robert began to row again, and Rosalind just turned back towards her brother. Elizabeth still couldn't say anything.

They pulled up to the dock and Booker looked up. It was the exact same lighthouse that he walked into, which led to the rocket chair contraption that took him to Columbia. He climbed the ladder first, then Elizabeth. He walked towards the lighthouse, his clothes soaked, as Elizabeth followed behind him, also drenched. Booker never looked back to check and see if she was following him like he usually did. He just kept walking with angry steps and a fire in his stare. As he started walking up the lighthouse steps, Elizabeth's heart started pounding so hard, she thought it might tear through her skin. She was scared and wanted to stop this.

"Booker… Booker, wait!" She tried to get his attention, but he didn't respond. He didn't even look back. He just kept slowly walking up the steps. _Dammit, say something,_ she screamed in her head. As they got closer to the doors, Elizabeth ran to get up in front of him. She saw the enraged look in his eyes and her heart rate doubled. He put his hand on the door as if starting to open it, but Elizabeth put her hand on top of his.

"Booker…" she said, this time getting his attention. He stopped and looked into her eyes. The look she gave him was heart-melting, and it seemed to put that fire in his eyes out like a light. His expression turned somber as he looked into her big blue eyes. God, those eyes could lose you and pull you in so far, that you'd never come back. "Are you sure this is what you want?" She put as much emotion, sorrow, and pleading in her voice as possible.

Booker stopped and thought about it. He thought about all that he and Elizabeth had been through in Columbia: all the times she had been kidnapped and how he had heroically saved her every time. All the times that she had saved his life sometimes. All the times that Elizabeth stayed close to Booker when she was scared, and the times Booker comforted her when she needed it. All the times they fought about their differences, and the times they made up about it later. But mostly the time Elizabeth realized she needed Booker, and the way she felt.

Booker turned all of this over in his head; should he go on with this or not? He thought maybe no, but then he remembered the doors and alternate universes, his sins and bad choices that he made in this universe and the other universes. He thought about Comstock, how he had locked Elizabeth in that damned tower for almost twenty years, and how he used her as a treasure, as something for other people to just look at, giving her no chance to interact with people. He hated him for that. But it wasn't just Comstock who put her there in the first place. He remembered that in other worlds, Booker Dewitt was also Zachary Comstock.

The Prophet, the False Shepherd, and the Lamb of Columbia. There was always a lighthouse, always a man, and always a city. Constants and variables. He was starting to put all the pieces together. He felt terrible for what he had done to Elizabeth and to Anna. He wanted to do something to make everything better; to repay Elizabeth for everything he had done to her. He knew that if he didn't do something to fix everything, he would resent himself for the rest of his life, and he would never forgive himself. He would turn out as a different person. Something worse than Comstock. He would probably end up a bitter old man; a jobless drunkard, never finding happiness or love. He would die alone. And these thoughts compelled him to go through with it. _Bring us the girl… And wipe away the debt._

He was now conflicted between two fates: both of which would not turn out with a _happily ever after_. He didn't know what to do. Then he realized that there was another option: if he was worried about his destiny, then screw it. Write a new destiny. He then got another idea. An idea that didn't involve any of this. An idea that would make him AND Elizabeth happy. It was perfect.

He concentrated on where he wanted to go. He concentrated so hard, his head started to hurt. He pushed the door open. The white light shown bright through the large wooden doors as they found themselves in the airship dedicated to Lady Comstock. He let out a relieved sigh as Elizabeth looked around dumbfounded and confused. Booker walked over to the controls and attempted to move the mechanisms, but he couldn't.

"No need for that," he heard a familiar British accent behind him. He whirled around to find the Lutece twins standing behind him and Elizabeth. "We went ahead and got that pesky task out of the way for you," said Rosalind, saying it with appreciation in her tone.

"An excellent choice by the way," said a cheerful Robert Lutece.

"Thanks guys," said Booker. Those twins did get on his nerves, but they were helpful. REALLY helpful.

"Booker, what's going on?" Elizabeth asked, a little nervous.

The twins turned to her. "Oh don't worry." "We think you'll enjoy the outcome of this fate." Then they both said simultaneously: "And we hope you enjoy your flight." They disappeared out of thin air at the last word.

"What did they mean by that," asked Elizabeth, walking towards Booker. Normally she was the one with all the answers, now she finally got how Booker felt most of the time.

"Don't worry about that," he said with a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He knew that she would love this. But they would have to wait a day, maybe a day and half for him to see the look on her face.

He then looked down at his clothes and thought he might want to change or something until his clothes dried off. "There's a back room in this thing, isn't there?"

"Mhm," mumbled Elizabeth, pointing to the door leading to it. He walked into the back room and closed the door. He looked around a little bit, and he noticed a stairway leading further down into the cabin of the ship, a coat rack and an armoire with people's purses, valuables, shoes; there was a desk with a typewriter and a Morse code transmitter. There was another door that led to a tiny bathroom. In the chair that sat near the desk, he found Elizabeth's old clothes: the white button-down shirt, the blue collar, the black belt, and her blue skirt, with her black stockings and shoes. They were a schoolgirl's clothes. In the bathroom he found the scissors that Elizabeth used to stab Daisy Fitzroy to save a little boy from being killed. He also found long strands of brown hair in the sink, and black dye. He knew immediately this was Elizabeth's hair. Then he found the blue ribbon that tied her hair back in that cute little ponytail she had.

He stopped sight-seeing for a little bit and started to strip down. He threw his vest to the side and started to unbutton his shirt. He took it off and threw his under shirt off too. He started to unbuckle his belt when he heard the door open behind him. He turned and found Elizabeth in the doorway, with her mouth open a little. His bare chest was exposed, revealing his six-pack and massive biceps and forearms. His somewhat large hands were frozen on his belt buckle as he stood there too, neither one of them knew what to do.

"Uh, I just had to use the bathroom," she said quietly, looking at his chest a little bit and blushing a tad.

Booker waved his hand toward the bathroom door. "Go right ahead."

"Thanks." She hurried into the bathroom and closed the door. He figured he'd better not be at the door for multiple reasons.

He took his stuff and followed the stairway down and adventuring a little bit into the lower levels of the airship. There were separate cabins, kind of like a hotel, and they were all lined up in a long hallway like a hotel. He went into the first one on the left. It wasn't a large room; it just had a small bed in one corner, and a bathroom in the other, and an empty closet in the other.

"Perfect." He threw the clothes he had already taken off on the floor, and continued again on his belt buckle. He let the belt hit the ground with a metal _Clump!_ He slid his pants and boxers off, took his clothes into the bathroom, hung them over the shower rail, and turned the water on, trying not to get his clothes wet. The water was warm. He bathed quickly, but he went slow enough to give his clothes time to dry a little bit. He finished, got a towel and dried off. His clothes were pretty dry by then, so he slid everything back on except for the vest and over shirt. He had his black with white striped pants and his white tee shirt back on. He went back upstairs to the back room and found Elizabeth at the desk reading some kind of book. A travel guide perhaps?

He brushed his damp brown hair to the side. "Ahem."

She looked up and found him in the same clothes. "Really?"

"What?" He threw his hands to the side.

"You didn't change clothes?"

"Well, you're one to talk," he said, letting her know that she hadn't really expanded her wardrobe either.

She closed the book and set it on the table. "Fine, we'll find some more clothes in… wherever you're taking me…" she said.

"You been downstairs?"

"No, not really."

"There's rooms, and maybe a kitchen if we can find something to eat." As if on cue, his stomach rumbled loudly, and so did Elizabeth's. Neither of them had eaten in a while. She followed him downstairs and they walked down the long hallway, hoping it would lead to a kitchen. When they got to the end, they found a massive high-ceiling room, with tables and chairs and a lit stage with instruments. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and sparkled magnificently. The wooden floors and walls were horribly stained, and the tables and chairs were either thrown over on their sides or broken into pieces. The instruments weren't in as bad of condition as the rest of the items in the mess hall, but they weren't in the best shape either.

They found a bar, with racks and racks full of wine, liquor, scotch, champagne, any alcoholic beverages they could think of, this place had it. Booker found a bottle of his favorite scotch and immediately went for it."

"Come to papa, you sexy son of a bitch."

"I'll actually just keep looking, but thanks for the compliment," Elizabeth jumped in jokingly.

Booker shot her a look that read _Very funny_. He grabbed the bottle, pulled the cork off with his bare hands, and took a massive gulp all in a matter of seconds.

"Whoa, slow down there tiger." Elizabeth worried about his alcohol consumption and dreaded the thought of him getting alcohol poisoning.

"Don't worry, it takes a LOT to get me drunk," countered Booker. "Let's get back to finding food."

They found two metal doors that looked like it led to the kitchen itself. Thank God it did. They started groping the nearest shelves for whatever was edible, and they found quite a bit, but most of it had to be cooked. Booker didn't even know what he was grabbing most of the time. With his scotch in one hand and looking the other way, he grabbed an onion off the shelf without him knowing it. He put it in his mouth and took a massive bite out of it. Big mistake. Tears immediately flooded his eyes as he spit it out and coughed like he was trying to choke up a lung. Elizabeth heard this and ran towards him. She saw the onion and had to try hard not to laugh.

Booker saw this and said through coughs: "Don't-"

Elizabeth interrupted him. "I didn't say anything! You gonna be okay?"

Booker got his bearings together as much as possible. "Yeah, just give me a minute." He took deep, sharp breaths and trying to get the gas from the onion out of his mouth. Elizabeth got a nearby washcloth and gave it to him, and rubbing his shoulders. Booker wiped his face vigorously, and took a sip of his precious scotch.

"Better." He kicked the onion away. _You little bastard._

Elizabeth laughed. Booker always knew how to make her laugh. They kept looking for food, and found a pantry. They opened it to find bread, grapes, apples, cheese, and basically French food. Booker grabbed a loaf of bread, warm, crisp, and great smell. He turned to face Elizabeth, and he split the bread in half handing one piece to Elizabeth. She took it, and bit off the end with a smile. It tasted fresh, like it just came out of the oven. They helped themselves to the other small snacks in that little pantry, but they knew that everything in this pantry could fill them up. They were that desperate for food.

"Hang on," Elizabeth spoke up. She went to the kitchen, leaving Booker in the pantry, to this sink where dirty pots rested waiting to be washed, next to a stove top oven. Elizabeth proceeded to open a tear to another world. She didn't open it all the way, because she didn't really have to. The smell of noodles and sauce passed through the rift in the world, and filled the entire kitchen. Booker stopped dead in his tracks and hurried toward the smell. He found Elizabeth with two large plates of spaghetti in her hands.

"Got us the perfect dinner," she said proudly as she closed the tear. Booker lipped his lips and took one of the plates. They walked back into the mess hall and fixed a table and two chairs, right next to the stage.

They ate fast and quietly. When they were done, Booker grabbed a small piece of wood the size of a toothpick and used it to pick his teeth. Elizabeth looked around the room a little bit. Then she recalled a memory from Columbia, and thought about the instruments on the stage. What if…

"Do you remember when we were at that bar, and we went into the back room…"

Booker immediately recalled that night like it was yesterday. "We found that homeless orphan boy. Then I played the guitar while you sang to lure him out and feed him." Elizabeth started quietly humming the song she sang to that poor little kid to herself. Booker loved to hear her sing. Her voice alone was intoxicating. He wanted to get her to actually sing the words now. He looked to the stage and saw that most of the instruments were damaged, except for a piano. He got up, went towards it, and started striking the keys in tune to Elizabeth's humming, and that was the key that released the full power of her voice.

"_Is a better home awaiting,_

_In the sky, in the sky?"_

She stopped at the first chorus. "Booker, I didn't know you played piano."

"Well, my parents were kind of like music freaks, so they thought I would have the purest musical talent out of all of them." He started striking all of the keys closest to his hand and played a flurry of notes in perfect harmony. All with one hand.

"Well, they were right," said a surprised Elizabeth. She got up from her chair and got up on the stage with Booker, grabbed a chair, and sat down. Booker, with his free hand, adjusted the piano seat to fit him well and sat down next to her.

"Play something for me," she cooed. Booker stopped playing his little warm up and thought about what he could play. He didn't really know a lot of songs, and he wanted to play something she would like. He wanted to sing something to her this time, but what would he sing about? Then it hit him. He would sing a song about her, and… her life in the tower. He started to come up with lyrics at lightning speed. He started striking the keys and singing.

"_She's watchin' the taxi driver, he pulls away…"_

She heard this and thought about Songbird, how he had been her only companion for all those years.

"_She's been locked up inside her apartment a hundred days…"_

She thought about her time in the tower, and wanting all those years just to go outside.

"_She says, 'Yeah he's still coming just a little bit late; he got stuck at the Laundromat washin' his cape…"_

She remembered reading books about heroic deeds and how the man always came to the woman's rescue. She wanted something like that to happen to her one day. She'd wait, and wait, and wait. Nobody came to her rescue for 19 years, until Booker.

"_She's just watchin' the clouds roll by and they spell a name… Like Louis Lane…_

_And she smiles…"_

He looks at her.

"_Oh, the way she smiles…"_

A pause. Booker looks up with a smile. What he sees is unbelievable. Elizabeth smiled. Not just any smile though. A smile that nobody would ever see in their lifetime. A smile that would put supermodels or those with perfect teeth's smiles shame. A smile that seemed to give life to the room. A smile that would bring light to the darkest cave. A smile that made the world stop and stare. For the two seconds pause, Booker saw this smile and took it in as much as he could, knowing that he would probably never see it again. The most beautiful smile that he or anyone else had ever seen. That smile made his heart beat loud in his chest. And he loved it. God, she was beautiful. He continued with the song:

"_She's talkin' to angels,"_

Elizabeth would talk to herself in the tower…

"_Countin' the stars,"_

She would count the stars at night…

"_Makin' a wish on a shooting star,"_

She would make a wish every time she saw a shooting star at night…

"_She's dancin' with strangers,"_

She was so happy to finally be out of the tower, she danced with those people on Battleship Bay…

"_Fallin' apart,"_

She was stressed about first leaving her tower, because she was worried about getting caught. And if that happened, she'd be back up there. Alone…

"_Waitin' for Superman to pick her up, in his arms…"_

She realized then that this song was about her. _How sweet_, she thought to herself.

"_In his arms… Waiting for Superman._

_She's out on the corner tryin' to catch a glimpse, nothings makin' sense,_

_She's been chasin' an answer, a sign lost in the abyss, this metropolis,_

_She says, 'Yeah, he's still comin' just a little bit late; he got stuck at the Five & Dime savin' the day,_

_She says, 'If life was a movie, than it wouldn't end like this, left without a kiss,_

_Still she smiles… Oh, the way she smiles, yeah!_

_She's talkin' to angels, she's countin' the stars, and makin' a wish on a shooting star,_

_She's dancin' with strangers, she's fallin' apart, and Waiting for Superman to pick her up,_

_In his arms… Oh, in his arms… She's waiting for Superman_

_To lift her up, and take her anywhere,_

_Show her love, and fly her through the air,_

_Save her now, before it's too late tonight…_

_Oh, at the speed of light._

Elizabeth moved from the chair to the piano stool, scooted up close to Booker, and laid her head on his shoulder. His voice was beautiful. He got warm inside, and for a second he thought he loved her. He thought that was impossible; there was a major age difference between them: he being 38, and she was just 19. Plus, she was his daughter, and that would lead to incest. He grossed himself out in is head at that thought, but then he remembered that that was only in certain universes. But in this universe he had no recollection of having Anna in the first place. No memories of his wife, or even having a wife, and no memories of him being with a woman that he loved and getting married with. He knew he couldn't love her, but with her head lying on his shoulder so comfortably… she felt warm, and she smelled great. He figured he'd better think about it later. He finished the song:

"_And she smiles…_

_She's talkin' to angels, she's countin' the stars, and makin' a wish on a shooting star,_

_She's dancin' with strangers, she's fallin' apart,_

_And waiting for Superman to pick her up, in his arms…_

_In his arms… She's waiting for Superman,_

_To lift her up, and take her anywhere!_

_Show her love, and fly her through the air!_

_Save her now, before it's too late tonight!_

_She's waiting for Superman."_

His fingers danced on those ivories like they'd been doing it forever. He closed the song with a quiet melody, and struck the final keys. When he finished, Elizabeth looked up at him, and he looked down at her. They looked into each other's eyes. Their faces were so close they could almost feel each other's breath against their faces. Now Booker wanted to kiss her. Right then and there.

_You fucking idiot, have some strength! _He screamed in his head. But her eyes were sucking him in like a black hole, threatening to trap him for eternity. She seemed to have a power to turn his brain off completely, and make all the blood in his brain go south. Elizabeth could see it in his eyes, he was fighting back against something. She was starting to have feelings for him.

_It's working? Oh my God, it's actually working! I'm turning him on!_ She was proud of herself at what she was accomplishing here. She wondered how far she could take it…

_Say something sexy_, she strategized. She thought about what she could say to turn him on more, something romantic…

_Don't fall for it… She's trying to get in your head… _Booker tried to think of anything that could make him stop… _I have self-control, I have self-control, I have self-control…_

"The sun, it's sparkling in your eyes," Elizabeth suddenly said, in a soothing, sexy, and seductive tone.

_Dammit, I'm a goner_, he thought to himself. He felt her hand rest on his thigh, and she moved it back and forth slowly. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! _He felt a throbbing in between his legs, slowly but surely, growing. He could feel it, and he thought Elizabeth could too. He tried to think of anything, absolutely anything that could turn him or her off. Could he say anything?

"Ahem," he quickly said, backing up a little bit. "It's getting late, we should… probably get some sleep."

Elizabeth heard this and all of a sudden she felt tired. She'd lost this battle…

"Okay, you're right," she said, accepting that she failed. She could probably go to bed and sleep on it (no pun intended). They both got to their feet and walked back to the rooms. Elizabeth walked in front of Booker. She thought about what she could do to get him thinking about her, or fantasizing about her. Then she had an ingenious idea, something that got all guys' attention. She started popping her hips when she walked. Not too much to let him know that she was trying, she made it look like a voluntary hip-popping.

Booker discovered his eyes shoot straight down to her butt. Moving side-to-side, back and forth, and back and forth… his head started following her butt's movements as it moved. He was like a hypnotized patient being put to sleep off a girl's ass. Thank God that hallway was long. She looked back very slightly, hoping that Booker wouldn't notice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his head bobbing side-to-side, matching the movements of her butt as it moved. She held back a little laugh, because he looked ridiculous. He looked up, and noticed her watching him. She had to think fast; she looked back up seductively, and turned her head slowly back in front of her.

_Holy shit, she's hot._ Somewhere in the back of Booker's brain, he wanted to reach a hand out, grab her ass, and grade it. Was this ass an A+: an out of this world perfect ass? Firm, plump, and one that bounced easily? Was this a C- ass? An ass that was small, flat, and didn't move at all? Did she stuff tissues in her panties or something to just make it look big? Or was it a B ass? Just an everyday ass that you could find on every other woman?

_Wait, what the hell am I thinking?_ He scolded himself miserably. He found what he was doing and immediately stopped, shaking the thoughts out of his head. This hallway was longer than they thought. When they finally got to their rooms, Elizabeth looked back at Booker, whose room was across from hers, and with a seductive look and tone, said: "Goodnight."

The way she said it made Booker's heart skip a beat, or two. He took a deep breath and replied with: "G' night." He had to stop himself from saying "gorgeous," and Elizabeth could tell he wanted to say it. She closed her door slowly and said to herself quietly, "Mission accomplished."

Booker ran his fingers through his hair and sighed in frustration. "Yeah, I'm screwed." He closed his door, undressed to his boxers and threw the covers over his head.

**Well, this is Chapter 1 of "What Could Have Happened." I had to rewrite this plot 2 times, I did my homework on Booker and Elizabeth, looked over my facts, and drove 'Spelling and Grammar Check' nuts. I also thought it'd be cool if I could put a song in here that related to the Bioshock Infinite story: Daughtry's "Waiting for Superman." It's a really great song, and before you start asking questions, this is NOT going to be a musical. Again, I would really appreciate it if you would leave comments, and I would also appreciate it if you would point out my errors. More chapters are coming, I promise!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Bioshock Infinite: What Could Have Been**

**Chapter 2**

_I could have picked a job that was less of a pain in my ass; I could have been a banker or something… But no; I had to be a fucking Pinkerton_; he scolded himself in his head. Booker tossed and turned all night. It was like the sheets kept scratching his skin, that the mattress was trying to eat him alive, and about 3 minutes into it, it was pretty clear that the damn thing wasn't going to get any more comfortable. He lied on his back and forced his eyes shut. He was going to power through his sleep. Did it work? Absolutely not. His thoughts were tearing him apart shred by shred.

He just couldn't stop thinking about Elizabeth. Damn that girl. She was an unsolvable enigma. She was smart, funny, knew how to piss Booker off, and holy shit she was hot. Her eyes were like sapphires, her face was like that of an angel, her- _Dammit, get her out of your head. _Booker tried to pull himself together. _Fuck me; I let her get in in the first place._ This girl couldn't be forgotten. Booker tried to make himself as perfectly still as possible. He ignored any impulse to move anything. He laid his hands on his chest and focused mainly on breathing in and out. In and out. For some reason he still thought of Elizabeth when he focused on in and out, and in and- _Shit, Booker! I am such a pervert…_ At that point, he wanted to put his foot in his own ass.

He thought about what happened on the stage a few minutes ago. Their faces were so close that he would've kissed her if he moved just a little bit. He wondered what her lips tasted like. Cherry? Strawberry? He remembered her vanilla aroma, how it was like a toxin that threatened to kill his brain. It was like everything about her turned his brain off, and made all the blood in his brain go straight to his dick. That incident with her rubbing his leg… Was she trying to tell him something? Booker returned to looking like he was wrestling with the sheets, trying to get out of its embrace. So much for being perfectly still. Now we were back to trying to kill the bed.

What happened a few hours ago wasn't really computing in his head. First there was the ransacking the kitchen, sharing the bread with her, her bringing up the night at _The Graveyard Shift _Bar, then there was the song… He didn't _have _to sing a song about her, he could've sung about his time at the Battle of Wounded Knee. What would he call it? Letter to Me? But the smile she gave him was just breath-taking.

She brought up the conversation, she wanted him to sing the song, she attempted to seduce him, to no avail, and she was the one rubbing his thigh; all the evidence pointed to her as guilty. But Booker couldn't hide that he might have felt something for her too. When their faces were within an inch away from each other, he wanted to just stick his tongue down her throat. Thank God he restrained himself. When she was bouncing her ass back and forth in the hallway, he was watching it. Could that have been on purpose?

He thought about what he felt for her. Did he love her? She wasn't just Elizabeth Comstock, she was Anna Dewitt. His own daughter. If he and Elizabeth got together, that would be wrong and the worst would come: incest. One of the worst sins in the Bible. Booker remembered the Ten Commandments that were taught to him when he was younger. _Thou shalt not commit adultery_, was the one commandment that stuck out to him in this situation. Of course, not everyone followed this commandment. He knew that right now, somewhere in this world, some young couple was making babies right now. Did Elizabeth want to go somewhere past the friendship border? After all that he and her had been through up in Columbia? The utopia paradise that within 15 minutes turned into the city of hell in the sky. They had been through a lot when they were there.

Would he do it all again?

Hell no.

Would he do it all again with her?

In a fucking heartbeat.

Elizabeth just slipped her dress off, kept her bra and underwear on and just fell on the bed.

_God, I totally had him in the palm of my hand! I can't believe I was turning him on! Damn, the books I read really knew what they were talking about…_

Elizabeth had read erotic books, all of which were very detailed. She remembered how the women tricked men into bed, conversations that triggered something in their brains that made men think: _Fuck her, fuck her right now._ It all seemed to work out the way she read it, so she put it to some use, and got a positive reaction. She wanted him. She wanted him in her room, right now, just pile-driving her into oblivion. But she knew that it would hurt. Bad. _Really _bad. Of course she was a virgin. For almost twenty years she had been locked up in a tower, with no human contact. Comstock could have given her a phone and a phonebook at least…

Comstock. The thought of him disgusted her. That sick fuck didn't care about her at all. He tried to take her power from her for God's sake. He treated her like an animal. A tool. You can only use a person so much until they finally just say: "Hey, fuck you, and fuck this!"

Then when she and Booker finally confronted the son-of-a-bitch on the Hand of the Prophet, he tried to apologize to her like nothing had happened! But she could tell that he had secrets. Secrets that he never shared with anybody. Secrets that even she herself knew nothing about. If only Booker hadn't had been so hasty to drown him in that birdbath…

She recalled that moment Booker drowned him. His muscles looked like they were about to tear through his sleeves, his muscular hands around Comstock's neck, choking the life out of him, as water splashed up and hit his face and shirt, showing more muscles. His hateful comments towards Comstock were blistering as spit flew out of his mouth and hit Comstock's face whenever he tried to come up for air. Booker was doing this for Elizabeth. He was fighting for _her_. Booker's punches cracked bones and made blood fly from Comstock's face every time. Booker's rage drove him into killing him, despite Elizabeth's cries to make him stop.

_He was doing all of that for me! _She pulled the covers over her cold body and curled up into a little ball to get warm. _His muscles were gorgeous…_ She remembered walking in on him and seeing him shirtless. At that moment, she didn't care if she was staring at him, she just wanted him to stand there and let her look at him.

_If all of Booker's muscles are that big, I wonder…_ She started fantasizing the possibility of the size of his member. She thought about what it would be like, to unzip his pants and out would emerge a monster of a dick. A dick that looked like it worked out itself.

_Should I be thinking of him like this? I mean, in some worlds he is my father. _Comstock and Booker. They were both different, but she would pick Booker any day. She would admit; she had a crush on him. She had a crush on him from the start, but did a good job of hiding it. Now she felt like she couldn't keep it in much longer. In her tower, she would dream about finally escaping and meeting a guy. Not just any guy though. She would meet "the one" one day, and she would fall helplessly in love with him, and one day (hopefully), they would get married, have a kid or two, and they would spend the rest of their lives together. It was her perfect fantasy. She'd been dreaming of it since she was five years old. She would put her pillow case over her head and wrap her white bed sheet around her and act out her perfect wedding.

Oddly, she didn't see all of that with Booker. For one (and I can't stress this enough), he was her father in some worlds. Second, their age difference was an eye-opener. She couldn't picture spending the rest of her life with Booker. Then she had a horrifying thought. What if it didn't work out between her and Booker? What if he abandons her wherever he's taking her? Oh God, what if he was taking her to New York? To turn her in, and eliminate all traces of his debt? He would leave her broken-hearted, and alone. She shuddered a little under the sheets. That thought terrified her to her core.

But nevertheless, she was in love with him.

She wanted him to love her too, but she wasn't sure if he wanted to get into anything like that. The song that he sang was so relative to her. That could be a sign that he wanted her… When their faces were just an inch apart, she could tell that he was holding back something… He wanted to kiss her… That was it. She was so close to getting in his pants. Then he turned it around and got her sleepy.

Her voice alone wasn't enough to get to him. She had to think of some other way to entice him. She thought and thought…

_My old clothes! That's it!_ She had often caught Booker staring at her when she was in those clothes, but she never said anything before. After all, it was nice to be looked at. She could wash her old clothes, and use them to steal his heart. She looked at the clock beside her bed and saw that it was almost morning anyway. The hour hand rested somewhere past the 5, the minute hand was slowly making its way to the 25 minute mark. Had she really been up all night thinking? How could night go by so freakin' fast? But it was the perfect time to do what she was going to do.

She quietly got up, slid her dress back on, silently opened, closed, and walked out the door. She snuck upstairs to find her old, beaten and bloodied clothes lying in the chair. She took them into the bathroom with her and started to wash the blood out of her shirt with warm water. It took some strenuous scrubbing and a good bit of work, but she got the blood out and laid her shirt over on a towel rack. She got to work on her blue skirt. It wasn't any easier, because it was hard to tell where there was blood. She eventually cleaned off every spot, which took longer, and hung it up on the same towel rack. She found a sewing set in the armoire and sewed in the tears and rips in her shirt and skirt. She then took off her dress, corset, and jacket, and laid them in a little pile on the floor. She slipped her damp blue skirt back on, tucked her white shirt in, buttoned it up, but not all the way. She left it unbuttoned a little, showing a little bit of cleavage, hoping it would do some damage. She loosely tied her scarf back under her shirt collar, and looked over to see the blue ribbon that she put in her hair. She thought about putting her hair back into that little ponytail she used to have. It wouldn't be the worst idea in the world. Her hair was starting to grow back out anyway, so what the hell?

She started to wash the black dye out of her hair, and checked her hair length to see if it was long enough to tie it back. It was. She found a hair straightener to straighten and dry her hair a little bit. When she was done, she pulled her hair back, tied the ribbon, and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked just like she did when she and Booker first met. Perfection. Then she remembered the sexy black stockings and shoes. She walked out of the bathroom, sat in the chair and put her stockings and shoes on. She looked at the grandfather clock in the corner and realized that it was about time for the sun to come back up. She went out to the main room where the controls were and saw a little glimmer of light. Blue skies and white clouds could be seen out every window as the sky was awakening. It suddenly occurred to her that she still had no clue where in the hell she was being taken to.

She looked for the monitor above the controls that normally told you your destination. The monitor was black and showed nothing. She looked for a tear to open that had a working monitor, but there wasn't a tear in this room to open.

_Booker must really want this to be a surprise. _If Booker really didn't want her to find out where they were going, then he had to have been taking her to New York. Shit, that wasn't good.

_I'm going to kill him_, she thought in anger. She would have to pull out the handy ole' wrench and bash the living shit out of him. _I can't believe he would do this to me! He is just a freakin' liar and a traitor! _Booker all of a sudden became the antagonist. She finally figured out what kind of guy Booker was. He was like… like… Comstock.

She was wrong about him. Booker and Comstock were both the same, no matter what. She felt nothing but anger, betrayal and resentment towards them. She was about to start searching for a parachute or something so she could abandon Booker on the ship, but she heard footsteps coming into the room.

_Shit, he's awake!_ She quickly sat on a small chest of drawers with the wrench hidden behind her. Booker came barging into the room with the rest of his stuff. His eyes reverted immediately to Elizabeth. He looked at her up and down. Her legs were crossed in front of her, she was wearing the same clothes she had on when he first met her, and her hair was back in its ponytail. She was the same beautiful girl that he met. _Damn, I missed those clothes_, he thought to himself.

"Hey," he said upbeat.

"Hey," said Elizabeth matter-of-factly. Bitch mode on.

"You, uh, you look good," he ventured.

"I know." She looked away from Booker and looked out the windows. Booker wondered where her sudden mental distance was coming from. He shrugged it off like he always did. _Weird_, he thought.

He brought his stuff up to the control panel and laid it out so he could access it easily later. He pulled up a rolling chair and sat down rocking back and forth.

Why was Booker acting like nothing was going on? He was taking her to New York; shouldn't he be eager to land? _This'd probably be a good time to ask him…_

"Booker, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure kiddo, anything." Poor choice of words.

"Where are we going anyway?" She asked very quickly, looking directly at him.

Booker stopped rocking instantly and looked at Elizabeth. She gave him a very stern look. Booker was rarely intimidated by her, but this was definitely one of those times where he was. His mouth hung open, but words wouldn't come out. All he could do was close his mouth and stare at the ground. Obviously, this was completely by surprise.

"We're going to New York, aren't we?" Still glaring daggers at him, Elizabeth tightened her grip on the wrench. Booker still couldn't say anything. He threw his hands in the air a little, looking as if it was true.

"My God…" Elizabeth slowly shook her head in disappointment. "I – can't – believe – you'd – DO – this – to – me!" She threw the wrench at him with all her might. Booker was prepared this time. He threw his arm in front of him, deflecting the tool and sending it another direction. He looked at the wrench, and back at Elizabeth, who had gotten down from the chest and started walking around and chewing Booker out.

"I seriously thought that you were different! I thought you weren't Comstock! You know what that sleazebag did to me! I saw you as my hero; the guy who saved the damsel in distress, but all of that was a lie!" She got a foot or two away from Booker and found a pair of scissors on the console, the same scissors she used to kill Daisy Fitzroy. She grabbed them and pointed them at him. Booker immediately crossed his legs. _Please God, anywhere but there_, he thought to himself.

"Elizabeth," Booker said, trying to steal the conversational ball to bring it into his court. "I–"

"I'M NOT FINISHED!" Elizabeth shouted. Booker shut his mouth and let her go on, hoping she didn't bring those scissors any closer. He kept a straight and neutral face.

"I don't give a shit about your debt! I thought of you as someone who would never hurt me, someone who keeps his promises! But you're just some selfish asshole who doesn't care about anybody but himself!" Booker didn't think Elizabeth could be as blistering as him. She was though. She was blistering, and just hurtful. Elizabeth: the girl who seemed to just love everything was waving a pair of scissors at him and giving him the yelling of his life.

"Most of all, I thought I could trust you." She threw the scissors back at the console. She was starting to get tears in her eyes as she was about to start sobbing. She turned her back so Booker couldn't see her face. "I – I hate you," she stammered quietly. The tears were welling up in her eyes. She couldn't believe what she had just said. She put a hand to her face as she felt little droplets slowly slide down her cheeks.

Booker was surprised utterly at what he'd just heard. _She… She… hates me._ He heard Elizabeth sniffling and choking back lumps in her throat. He wished he could only explain to her… He hated seeing her cry. The first time he made her cry, he felt like shit. This time he felt like more than shit; he felt like a horse's ass. _Just tell her the truth, you jackass_, his conscience told him.

He looked out the window, and found exactly what he was looking for. His timing couldn't be more perfect.

He walked up behind Elizabeth and put both hands on her shoulders to comfort her.

"Elizabeth–" He got cut off once again.

"No!" She screamed and jerked away from him and faced him. She didn't have tears in her eyes anymore. Somehow she'd put them back in her eyes. She continued: "To hell with your debt! I'd much rather be back in my tower than with you! I wouldn't have left if I knew you were going to do this to me!" She started turning in different directions to express her temper until she finally turned in the direction of the window. "I can't believe that–" She stopped and stared out the window. She couldn't believe what she saw.

Somewhere poking out in the middle of the clouds was a dark grey pencil-shaped figure sticking out like a little erection in the clouds. Then there came an opening in the clouds showing the magnificence of Paris, France.

Paris. Her dream come true.

She put her hand over her open mouth in shock and surprise. Booker stood there looking at her, and smiling at the look on her face. He had successfully surprised her and had gotten to see the look on her face. Sure, he'd gotten chewed out, a wrench thrown at him, and a pair of scissors pointed at him threatening to neuter him, but it was all worth it.

Elizabeth stared out the window and looked at the glorious sight in front of her. The city was starting to wake up, as the orange sun created a silhouette amongst the horizon and part of the Eiffel Tower. The little buildings seemed like little ants compared to the size of the large monument.

Booker came up behind Elizabeth and laid his hands on her shoulders again. She didn't jerk away this time. "I lied," he said. She whirled around instantly and hugged him tight. She almost knocked him backwards. He felt wet spots forming on his shoulder. They were her tears; not tears of sorrow, but tears of overwhelming joy. She sobbed a happy sob, and had a death grip around his neck. Booker hugged her back, getting a better whiff of her vanilla scent.

She spoke up in a muffled, strained voice: "Thank you! Oh my God, thank you!" This was officially the best day of her life.

"This is way better than New York," he replied. He kissed the side of her head. She was happy, so he was happy.

**Sorry guys, this came out a little later than I wanted. Sorry if I kept you guys waiting!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Bioshock Infinite: What Could Have Been**

**Chapter 3**

Booker grabbed his things from the console, and headed for the bay doors. Elizabeth was there trying to contain her excitement.

"Shouldn't we get parachutes first," she asked.

"Ship doesn't have any," he responded quickly.

"But-"

"Trust me, I've looked."

"So, what're we supposed to do?!"

"What do you think? We jump!" He opened the doors with a mighty twist and turn. The wind came rushing in like a bullet. Their hair started flying all over the place as the excitement of the moment sky-rocketed.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!"

Booker pretended to think about it, and then held his finger and thumb up as if showing a small amount.

"A little bit- great, that's just freakin' fantastic," Elizabeth started pacing around nervously.

"No, but seriously," broke out Booker. "We're right above the ocean; plus, when we land, we only have to swim about a couple meters to the nearest dock. We'll be fine."

He held out his hand as if wanting her to take it. She slowly and timidly took it, not completely trusting him with the stupid stunt they were about to pull. He gave her a smile that let her know that it was going to be okay. And she smiled back.

They looked at the wide-open world ahead of them. They were halfway to it.

Paris awaited.

Booker looked at her. "You ready?"

"Mhm," she shook her head.

"Okay. One…" Elizabeth laced her fingers through his as her heart raced.

"Two…" She swallowed a lump in her throat, thinking of all sorts of things that could go wrong with just jumping. What if they didn't fall right? What if they lost each other's grip? What if the wind took them out of the direction of the water and they wound up hitting the concrete instead?

"THREE!" No time to think now.

They jumped. Without thinking, they jumped. The wind rushed by them like bullets. If they wanted to talk to each other on the way down, it'd be nearly impossible. That's how fast the wind was going by them. Their adrenaline levels went through the roof. Booker was starting to feel Elizabeth get farther away, even though they were holding hands.

_Not this time_, he thought. What happened in Columbia the first time they were falling was not going to happen again. He pulled her closer with all of his strength. Elizabeth got jerked closer to Booker as she felt herself hit something big and hard. Booker's chest. His arms wrapped around her in a death grip. She pulled her arms in and grabbed his shirt tightly. When she was in his arms, she finally felt safe. And so they fell.

As they got closer to the water, Booker somehow turned them completely upside down in midair

"Elizabeth," he shouted. She looked up.

"Get ready to hold your breath!"

She nodded obediently. She looked up. The water was flying towards them.

"NOW!" They both took the biggest breaths of their lives, anticipating that it may take them longer to come up, or they may never come up again. They hit the water with a massive splash.

Booker had the bravery to open his eyes in the salty water. They were five yards below the surface; not too bad. He let one arm go of Elizabeth, with one arm still hanging on to her. He started to gently paddle his way up, but he didn't move for a while.

_Shit, I have extra weight!_ He started paddling harder, and putting more power into his legs. He was starting to lose his breath, and he was pretty sure Elizabeth was too. It was just five fucking yards to the surface! Was he really that much of a little bitch? Hell no he wasn't. With all his power and might, he made one strong thrust upward.

_Getting closer..._ He felt a pounding on his chest. Elizabeth's message was very clear: Dude! Hurry up! Another strong thrust.

_Almost there!_ The salt water was burning his eyes; his breath was about out… One more thrust…

They surfaced with a little splash and a lot of gasping for air and panting. Booker still held on to Elizabeth for a smart reason: a girl that's been locked up in a tower for most of her life probably doesn't know how to swim. Once she got her composure she buried her face in his neck. Booker tightened his grip on her.

"I've got you..." he whispered. He started swimming towards the nearest dock; 20 feet away. How they had gotten that close to it and hadn't fallen on it instead was uncanny.

"_Excusez-moi, monsieur et madame, mais avez-vous besoin d'aide?_" A fisherman called out to them who looked like he didn't speak a lick of English.

"Elizabeth, do you know what this guy's saying?" Elizabeth took her head out of his neck and spoke back to them: "_Oui, s'il vous plait!_"

_Apparently you do_, he thought to himself. "You know French," he asked her.

"Yeah, he asked if we needed help and I just said 'yeah,'" she whispered back. "I'll be your little translator until I can teach you. And don't worry, you don't have to pay me," she said.

"_Obtenez une bouée de sauvetage!_" The fisherman started barking at his fishing partner, who was obviously younger than him. He was clean-shaven, had brown, slick hair, and was wearing a fishing vest with a long sleeve shirt and pants. The other gentleman, who looked old enough to be the guy's father, had the same shade of brown hair, with a mustache that resembled Tom Selleck's. He was taller, wearing a hat, and a white tee shirt with dress pants. He tossed the life-preserver right in front of them. Booker grabbed hold. The man had a string tied around it so he could pull them to shore.

When they got pulled onto the dry dock, the older gentleman took Elizabeth's hand. "_Bonjour, chère dame._" He kissed her hand, and Elizabeth giggled.

"Oh, for Chrissakes," Booker mumbled. He got up and shook his clothes. Water droplets bounced everywhere. The French gentleman looked at Booker, and then Elizabeth again. "_Oh, merci, vous avez un petit ami!_" He took Booker's hand and shook it violently.

"_Oh, non, monsieur, il n'est pas mon ami, c'est mon..._" She got wide-eyed and nervous trying to think of some kind of "role" for Booker.

"_C'est mon escorte._" It was the first thing that came to mind. Booker looked at her with a suspicious face.

"I don't know any French worth a crap, but I sure as hell heard something that sounded like 'escort,'" he said.

"I'm sorry," she said through gritted teeth, "but that's the best I could come up with!" The gentleman began to introduce himself in French. Booker cut him off.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak French," he said slowly. The gentleman nodded and cleared his throat.

"So I see…" Finally, some English. It came out in a native French accent that was difficult to understand.

"Wait, you really do know English?" Elizabeth looked surprised.

"Of course. I am only one of the few in this city who speaks English. I am Sal Bonmarito; the finest photographer in all of France. This is my son, Mark," he said addressing his son.

"This is Elizabeth," Booker replied, and he put his hand out. "Name's Booker. Booker Dewitt." The younger man came up and shook his hand.

"If I may ask," said the older gentleman, "what were you two doing jumping out of a zeppelin?"

"It's a long story," replied Elizabeth.

"Yeah, really _really_ long story," finished Booker.

"Well no trouble," said the older gentleman. The younger man started speaking in French. "My son wishes to know where you are from."

"New York. We're here cause…" Booker paused. "Honestly I don't know why we came here."

Elizabeth broke in: "We just had this feeling, you know, to just GO somewhere. So out of the blue, we picked Paris!"

The older gentleman nodded his head. "I see. Well, I would hate to leave this conversation so soon, but I promised my son a week ago that we would have a fantastic 'Father-Son Fishing Day,' so I think it would be best we meet again soon." He reached into his back pocket. "If you ever want a portrait of yourselves made, please, stop by my business." He held out his business card. Booker took it. "Oh, I forgot you were wet! I apologize; I would offer you towels but we didn't bring any…"

"Oh no sir, that's okay," Elizabeth interrupted. "We'll definitely take you up on stopping by."

"And by the way," the older gentleman said, "welcome to Paris!"

The fishermen went on with their business like nothing happened.

"That was nice," Elizabeth waved goodbye to them.

"Yeah, he's got this thing on the card that says he's got a half-off price deal going on today. Wouldn't hurt to check it out…"

Booker put the card in his wet back pocket, and so they walked down to the other end of the dock making their way onto the asphalt. The city was definitely waking up as the yellow sun poured onto every nook and cranny of the city. Just to the right of the dock's exit, there was a little café serving breakfast. There were couples drinking their coffee out of little tea cups, people with bagels on their plates, and…

Ah, fuck. The Lutece twins were helping themselves to black coffee.

"What now?!" Booker mumbled to himself. He walked over to their table, pissed off.

"What the hell are you two doing here?"

"Well, for one," started Robert, "we occasionally like to come down here and visit. The view is absolutely spectacular!"

"And we're here to alert you of something," finished Rosalind, just getting her cup away from her lips.

"What is it?"

"We're here to tell you that the currency you bear now is worthless."

"Wait," interrupted Elizabeth. "What're you guys talking about?"

"We'll show you. Mr. Dewitt, would you empty your pockets?"

Booker looked at them like they had lost their damn minds. "S'cuse me?"

"No, asking that way won't work dear sister," scolded Robert. "Allow me to rephrase that: Mr. Dewitt, would you _kindly_ empty your pockets?"

Booker impulsively emptied every pocket in his shirt, vest, pants, everything. He didn't want to, but he couldn't stop himself. Out emerged enough silver eagles to fill up the entire Bank of Columbia. Elizabeth's eyes widened as one thought went through her head: _What the hell?_

"And that is how you ask someone to empty their pockets."

"Oh, stop it brother. If you're going to be a show-off, there's no need to embarrass me in the process."

"Booker," started Elizabeth. "Did you rob a damn bank?"

Booker looked down at all of the silver pieces. A mountain of money.

"No," he said nervously. "This all of the leftover money that I saved up."

"Well… good job," she sarcastically complimented him.

"We're here to tell you that silver eagles are worth nothing in Paris," told Rosalind.

"Dammit," Booker said quietly.

"Wow, Booker, you are just a freakin' genius," yelled Elizabeth.

"I'd quiet down if I were you," warned Robert. "First day in Paris; you don't want to appear weird, now do you?"

Booker started getting really pissed off. Just like he always did when those two showed up.

"Can y'all just-"

"Leave peacefully," asked Rosalind. "Very well." The twins disappeared again. Elizabeth sat down at the table completely bummed out.

"Well, what do we do with all this," she asked, addressing the money pile on the table. Booker paced around the table thinking about what they could do. Suddenly, a light bulb went on in his head. He grabbed the money and cradled it in his arms like a baby.

"Get me decaf," he said running off. "Order whatever, I'll be back in a minute." Elizabeth sat there dumbfounded about being stranded there. She couldn't get up now; a waiter asked her what she wanted.

"_Je vais juste un bagel et un peu d'eau._" She pointed to the other end of the table. "_Il va falloir un café décaféiné._"

"_Oui madame. Ce sera sous peu._" The waiter left. Elizabeth looked back to Booker, who was running off into the distance with the silver eagles.

Booker finally found a bank: a high-ceilinged, well-lit one room bank. The desks were evenly distributed to leave enough room for a family of three to fit in between them. There were people who were well-dressed and talking to people who worked at the bank who were well-dressed too. Booker was the only one in there who looked like a total retard with his sloppy and dirty clothes, and his arms cradling all of the silver eagles, which covered his whole chest, and most of his face. He had to stretch his neck and look up a little to see past the peak of the silver mountain. He got the strangest looks. He decided to ignore all of them as he walked to the other end of the building where the counter full of tellers was. He finally found a teller who spoke a little bit of English.

"I need to get an exchange rate on all of this," he told the teller. The teller looked at the money, and back at Booker. He had the weirdest look on his face. He reached into his little microphone and spoke French. He told Booker to come around to the back and talk to the manager. Booker went through the doors that led to the back. The teller that had him was piling the silver eagles into an enormous bag. The manager came out and led Booker to a desk. The manager was fat, bald, and had a streak of reddish-brown hair around the back of his scalp. He basically looked like a pear with legs, hair, and a face. They sat across from each other.

"So, Mr. Dewitt," started the teller in a French accent. "How did you happen to come across your silver fortune?"

_Time to make up some bullshit story_, thought Booker.

"Well," he started, "me and a friend of mine were mining in these cliffs, see, and we found a hole somewhere in the caves. We saw a shimmering light through it, so we decided to dig through it. Soon as that hole busted open, all of these came pouring out," he said, addressing the bag that the teller was holding full of silver eagles. The manager shook his head, apparently very interested in Booker's story. "But anyway," Booker continued, "we picked the whole place clean and we decided to come here."

The manager shook his head. "I see. And where is your friend now?"

_Umm…_ "At the dock. He's fishing with his son. He just handed me the money and told me to get an exchange rate for it." The manager again shook his head. He looked at the bag and back at Booker. He grabbed the bag and told him to wait here. He dragged the heavy bag into his office and closed the door. Booker waited and waited.

The manager came back out 15 minutes later, empty-handed.

"I have calculated your amount." Booker took a breath and nodded, expecting to be pretty low.

"I have counted eight-thousand seven-hundred and sixteen pieces of silver. Each silver piece weighed an ounce exactly; the price of silver is 18.61 francs per ounce; Mr. Dewitt, you are looking at 165, 931.00 francs."

Booker's eyes widened as his jaw dropped. "And how much is that in US dollars?"

"I believe that would be…" The manager had a thinking face on as he thought about it. "$182,841.05, sir."

Booker sat in the chair stupefied. "Uh, holy shit," he said.

The manager shook his hand. "I know. And here is your fortune, exchanged." The same teller came out of the office with two briefcases. He set them both on the table in front of Booker and opened them. They were both full of franc bills. The manager had evenly distributed the total amount into all of the variously different bills. Fives, tens, twenties, etc. The teller then put a small pouch in between the two cases. The franc coins were also evenly distributed. "We have also opened your own savings account here under your last name," the manager finished. The bullshit story actually worked.

Booker was super proud of himself as he closed the cases and the pouch. He put the pouch in his pocket and he shook the manager and the teller's hand. He graciously thanked them as he took both briefcases and powerwalked out the front door of the bank. He was officially in the best mood he could be; walking down the streets carrying briefcases full of money with the smuggest grin on his face. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, not a cloud in sight, music played on the streets, birds were chirping. It was a perfect day. Nothing was going to ruin this day.

_I am one wealthy motherfucker_, he thought to himself. His shadow seemed to be in a cheerful mood too. He found the café again and Elizabeth sitting at the same table. Thank God, she didn't run off. She had ordered a bagel and two small cups of coffee. She saw him and the briefcases and about spit whatever was in her cup back into it. She got wide-eyed as he sat down.

"You- wha- but- how- how did you- what?!" She too was stupefied.

He had the biggest smug look on his face. "C'mon," he said. "Let's go buy shit." He pulled some money out of one of the briefcases, paid for the food, tipped the waiter, closed the briefcase back, and held out his arm for Elizabeth to grab. She wrapped her arm around his as they walked together, heading towards the nearest markets they could see…


End file.
